Who is Present in Absence?

A Pentecostal Theological Praxis of Suffering and Healing

Pamela F. Engelbert

• Publisher: Pickwick Publications
• Year: 2019
• ISBN:
  9781532633546
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: Christian Denominations

What transpires when Classical Pentecostals pray for God to intervene within their suffering, but God does not? Traditionally, Classical Pentecostals center on encountering God as demonstrated through the relating of testimonies of their experiences with God. In seeking to contribute to a theology of suffering for Pentecostals, Pam Engelbert lifts up the stories of eight Classical Pentecostals to discover how they experienced God and others amidst their extended suffering even when God did not intervene as they had prayed. By valuing each story, this qualitative practical theology work embraces a Pentecostal hermeneutic of experience combined with Scripture, namely the Gospel of John. As a Pentecostal practical theological project it offers a praxis (theology of action) of suffering and healing during times when we experience the apparent absence of God. It invites the reader to enter into the space of the other's suffering by way of empathy, and thereby participate in God's act of ministry to humanity through God's expression of empathy in the very person of Jesus.

1

What’s It All About?

The Introduction

If I had previously given any thought to my beliefs on suffering, I would have affirmed that suffering exists in the world. If I had been asked if I held to the belief that God blessed those who obeyed and punished those who did not, I would have agreed but added some qualifications. I now admit to having held a just world belief system.1 For example, I previously was convinced that ministers were at fault when they departed from a church within a year, or when turmoil disrupted my own life, I frequently asked God, “What did I do wrong?” It was not until I walked on a path of extended suffering that I began to wrestle with this belief system.

The above beliefs or actions are significant when one considers that who I am plays an important role in the words typed on these pages. That is, the aforementioned examples are not merely beliefs or actions that are separate from who I am. Hence, the fact that I am the youngest of three children who were raised on a farm in South Dakota and that I am a woman, a Caucasian, an American, a wife, and a Pentecostal minister cannot be separated from what I bring to the table and from what I offer specifically in the form of this project. Thus, I begin by telling my story. My story, as seen on the next few pages, contains an account of three interrelated experiences of ministry that have had a hand in shaping who I have become.2 At the same time, I see the Spirit moving in and through these experiences, leading to this project.

The first place of ministry involved a small group of hurting Pentecostals in which I witnessed healing through authentic relationships in the power of the Spirit. As a deeply wounded congregation, it was the center of gossip in this rural area due to the moral failure of one of its previous ministers; thus, it was incumbent upon subsequent ministers to walk uprightly in the community in order that the Spirit may restore the church’s reputation. Interestingly, my husband was the one who initially practiced authenticity; therefore, integrity was maintained among the people in that he shared with the congregation about his struggles, resisting artificiality. Correspondingly, it was his openness that produced a change in my identity as a minister.

The Spirit challenged me to trust others through my own openness and vulnerability, which was contrary to my understanding that a minister was to appear victorious. As we shared our home, our stories, and our struggles, I saw healing and transformation come within us as well as within the congregation. As one congregant exclaimed, “I have never seen two people change so much!” I discovered how our transparency deepened and expanded relationality for it fostered transparency within the members of this Pentecostal congregation. As we prayed for one another, the body learned to share each other’s burdens without even involving the minister. As one person insisted, “Pastor, you taught us to do this.” My eyes were opened as I saw the importance of being the body of Christ, not only for this congregation’s sake but also for the sake of the surrounding community.

I recall a particular occasion when this Pentecostal body embraced a family’s grief and suffering, which thereby fostered healing. A Hispanic family within the congregation had learned from their physician that their father, Thomas, had only three weeks to live. As the daughters sat in the second pew singing with the congregation, we were well aware of the news they had received on the previous day. It felt inappropriate to us, and even cruel, to sing songs of celebration while hearts in our midst were filled with deep sorrow. As the congregants greeted each other, my husband asked two of the daughters if it was appropriate for the congregation to visit their parents’ home, sing a few songs, and pray with the family. After phoning their mother for permission, it was announced that we were going to be the church. That morning this Pentecostal congregation of approximately forty people embodied what it was to be the presence of Christ to this family in their suffering. It informed them, “You are not alone.” It also allowed members of the congregation to participate in the Spirit’s ministry to Thomas and his family prior to Thomas’s death three weeks later.3

Such instances were not limited to our church but went beyond the boundaries of the lives of its members. My husband and I had developed strong relational bonds with two other, non-Pentecostal pastoral couples. This friendship formed the basis for these respective congregations to join together in evening worship services on the fifth Sunday of those months that had five Sundays. Healing ensued in the lives of those who had been wounded by the past words and actions of various congregants, and deeper Christian bonds were formed across denominational lines. In short, this first ministry experience communicated to me the significance of the body of Christ, the importance of transparent relationships for the leader, and the healing that comes through relationships through the power of the Spirit. It was this understanding that I carried with me as I departed from this healing space.

This understanding of healing through relationships was reinforced at the second and third places of ministry, not through its copious presence, but through its conspicuous absence. In both places we expected a network of caring relationships, but we regrettably heard pious platitudes or were ignored when we revealed our troubles to those in ministerial or lay leadership. When a local believer stated, “I am praying that you will leave,” those who were present neglected to reach out to us. When a different Christ-follower labeled my husband “demon-possessed,” a leader informed my husband that it was “an opportunity to grow.” Fortunately another leader responded with empathy in this instance when he saw the pain in my husband’s face. Following a further instance of rejection, one couple in leadership responded to us by saying, “I can see you are hurting,” and they then walked away, leaving us alone to deal with the aftermath. We heard from several that we were to set an example as ministers by living above our problems, which was similar to my own earlier perception of a minister while at our first place of ministry. Certain people overtly opposed the vulnerability we showed through our authenticity. One person asserted, “Pastor, we pay you to carry our burdens, not for us to carry yours.” Unfortunately, at one place of ministry we were forced to depart after fifty-one weeks even though the district leadership plainly expressed our innocence; thus, I had essentially become one of those ministers about whom I had perceived as a failure: a pastor with a short tenure at a place of ministry.

Without the presence of supportive relationships, I entered into a crisis of faith. The frequency with which we were ignored in the midst of pain would have been laughable if it had not hurt so much. As we walked away from these two experiences of ministry, we had come to believe three things: our contribution to ministry was irrelevant; we ourselves were insignificant; and our work was inconsequential. In short, we did not matter. I eventually realized that our first place of ministry had been a lesson in the Spirit’s use of relationships to bring healing, and this lesson had been reinforced at the next two places of ministry, albeit by the lack thereof. In essence, while I sought support through relationality, its absence provided a bitter lesson in its importance.

Regrettably, our suffering continued as did our isolation. First, we experienced a job opportunity gone awry, which was followed by a theft and an aborted offer on our house that was for sale, which cost us additional expenses. As weeks turned into months we faced health issues and were unable to find a place of ministry. Our pain deepened when members of the body of Christ ignored us or offered callous...

Table of contents

• Title Page
• Foreword
• Preface
• Acknowledgments
• Abbreviations
• Chapter 1: What’s It All About?
• Chapter 2: What’s Your Story?
• Chapter 3: Where Are You From?
• Chapter 4: Where’s God in Suffering?
• Chapter 5: Where Are Others in Suffering?
• Chapter 6: How to Be Present in Apparent Absence
• Chapter 7: Where to Go from Here
• Appendix A: Interview Protocol
• Appendix B: Informed Consent Form
• Appendix C: Coding Process
• Bibliography